


A Charming Disaster

by thecircleofstupidity



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humanstuck, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecircleofstupidity/pseuds/thecircleofstupidity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gamzee the Ghost follows you around for the rest of the day and, like they said, no one else seems to be able to see them. You try not to talk to them very much (you're enough of an outcast, you don't need to add “talks to himself” to the list of things people think are wrong with you) but that doesn't stop Gamzee from talking to you. They ask you lots of questions—where your next class is, why you keep getting oddly apologetic glares from a blue-eyed girl with large glasses, do you think pigeons have feelings—the list goes on. You scribble down as many answers as you can in your notebook for them to read during class, but they never seem to be satisfied." Tavros has been depressed for a while now (he doesn't remember ever not being like this) but things change when he's followed to school by the ghost haunting his house. Gamzee/Tavros, Aradia/Tavros (but in a platonic way), Summoner/Tavros (again, platonic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rolling Down the Road

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a band whose songs are about paranormal, crime and murder in the 1920's but I thought it fit. I seriously suggest you check them out. They're called Charming Disaster and they only have about four songs, but they're still good. This chapter owes its title to the song Tumbleweed by Avi Kaplan (which I also suggest you listen to). Kind of a side note, but on tumblr I'm the-circle-of-stupidity in case you want to check out any more of my art and stuff.

You don't really want to get out of bed when you wake up in the morning, but you've already skipped class too many times to pass if you miss another day. Still, it takes you ten minutes and your uncle knocking on your door, calling something in rapid Spanish, for you to actually get up. You open the closet, glancing over your reflection in the full-length mirror on the inside of the door. A scrawny, lanky teenager with too-broad shoulders and ears big enough to rival an elephant's stares back at you down his arched nose, running a long-fingered hand through his shaggy mohawk as you do the same. The prosthetic leg attached just under your left knee seems even more out of place than usual. Maybe it's just because you haven't looked at it for the past week.

A few minutes later you're in the bathroom, halfheartedly brushing your teeth. Dark eyes stare dully back at you and glancing up you meet the dark purple eyes of someone standing behind you. Wait—who the hell?!

You jump backwards, dropping your toothbrush, and whirl around, trying to see who is slouching behind you, a benign smile adorning their face. Nothing. Just the beige wall Uncle Sumner keeps trying to get you to repaint. Slowly, scared of what you'll see, you turn back to the mirror. Nothing. Maybe you're just tired. It's not like you actually went to sleep last night. Still looking around, you finish brushing your teeth, grab your crutches and head downstairs to catch the bus.

No one talks to you on the bus, but to be fair, you don't talk to anyone either. In class you take out your notebook, getting ready to go through the motions.

“Missin' your pencil?” a gravelly voice asks, holding out the chewed pencil you were digging through your backpack for. You reach out for it and freeze as you catch sight of their face. It was the same person in your mirror this morning. Sure you only saw them for a second, but their scarred face is one you wouldn't forget very easily.

“Tavros?”

You flinch, your head whipping around to see Aradia looking slightly worried. How many times did she say your name? Her brown eyes flick between you and the air you're offering your pencil to.

“What are you looking at?”

“Uh...N-no one,” you stammer. “I w-wasn't looking at an-anything.”

“Okay...good morning,” she says, walking off towards her own desk.

“M-morning,” you reply, distracted by the sudden disappearance of the tall person next to you. Where'd they go? Throughout the class, you swear you keep seeing them out of the corner of your eye, but whenever you turn to look it's just another classmate. You remind yourself to take something to help you sleep tonight.

At lunch you sit alone, picking at your food. Someone sits across from you and you don't bother to look up. They sit there quietly for a few minutes and you feel their eyes watching you.

“W-what do you want?” you finally ask. Looking up, you see the dark-skinned face and shaggy hair of the person that's been following you. They smile at you, leaning on one hand. Seeing how they don't say anything and just continue to stare at you, you decide to ask another question. “Who are you?”

“Name's Gamzee,” they say. “You looked like you all up and needed some company.”

“Th-thanks, but I'm u-used to it.” You take a bite of the school's poor excuse for spaghetti, waiting for Gamzee to leave. But they stay, taking the cookie from your tray. They don't eat it, just roll it around the table, leaving little crumbs everywhere.

“S-so, this is gonna sound kinda w-weird, but I s-saw you in m-my bathroom this morning,” you say, debating with yourself about whether or not to take the cookie from them. Gamzee gives a low, throaty laugh.

“Yeah, I wasn't sure if you saw me or not. Not everyone can see me, y'know? So when I noticed you needin' some motherfuckin' emotional support, I thought, why the fuck not? Thanks for noticin' me, Tavbro!”

You aren't sure whether this is a new nickname or if they just got your name wrong. Either way, something else they said catches your attention.

“What d-did you m-mean only s-some p-p-people can see you?”

Gamzee looks surprised. “You can't tell? I'm a motherfuckin' ghost!”

They lean forward, their torso phasing right _through_ the table and your mouth drops open. The cookie rolls off the table and you don't bother to catch it. You probably weren't going to eat it anyway.

“H-how d-di-di—?” You stop and take a deep breath, stuttering worse than usual. Gamzee seems to understand what you're saying however because they grin, holding their hands out for dramatic effect.

“I told you, bro! Mother _fuckin_ ' ghost! Like some kinda _miracle_ or somethin'.”

You aren't entirely sure what to say and instead settle for closing your mouth and nodding like you understand. You don't, but you can pretend.

Gamzee the Ghost follows you around for the rest of the day and, like they said, no one else seems to be able to see them. You try not to talk to them very much (you're enough of an outcast, you don't need to add “talks to himself” to the list of things people think are wrong with you) but that doesn't stop Gamzee from talking to you. They ask you lots of questions—where your next class is, why you keep getting oddly apologetic glares from a blue-eyed girl with large glasses, do you think pigeons have feelings—the list goes on. You scribble down as many answers as you can in your notebook for them to read during class, but they never seem to be satisfied.

Instead of taking the bus, you decide to walk home so you can talk with Gamzee. They take long, striding steps that make them look like they're walking on the moon. Your crutches make it a little hard to keep up, but Gamzee adjusts to your speed quickly enough as you talk.

“So how long've you had those things for?” Gamzee asks, pointing at the crutches.

“Well, e-ever since I w-was in mm-middle school, my legs haven't worked q-quite right. Th-there was an accident w-when I was thirteen.” That's all you're willing to say on the matter. Gamzee may be a ghost and eager to be your friend, but that doesn't change the fact that you've only known them for half a day. Gamzee nods until it looks like they're just nodding to nod.

And suddenly you're home. This is the fastest you've ever walked home. You laugh at something Gamzee says as you unlock the door. The sound comes as a little bit of a shock. How long has it been since you genuinely _laughed_ at something?

Talking to Gamzee is so... _easy_. They only ask why you live with your uncle and suddenly you find yourself telling them your life story—what happened to your parents, why you're so depressed. It all just comes flooding out, impeded only slightly by your stutter. Gamzee listens to what you have to say without contradicting you or, like Uncle Sumner, despite his best attempts, telling you it's only a phase that he went through too, and that you'll get over it. You sit on your bed and Gamzee sits cross-legged on your floor, leaning forward attentively.

“...a-and one of my dads—the biological one—his name was Tim he died when I w-was eight. M-my other dad l-lost the custody b-battle w-w-with my uncle, s-so I only g-get to see him on the weekends.” You pause to check your watch. “A-actually, he sh-should be here in about, uh, half an hour o-or so to p-pick me up.”

Gamzee straightens up. “Can I come with you?”

You shrug, a little confused seeing as they followed you to school without trouble. “I, uh, d-don't see why n-not...”

Their face breaks out in a wide grin, accented by the scars at the edges of their mouth. The door opens downstairs, telling you your uncle is home. You decide you've shared enough about yourself for now and that you need to change the subject.

“S-so, um...can I a-ask how you—how y-you died?”

Gamzee's smile shrinks only a little bit before they laugh. “Did I ever show you that I can all up and put my foot behind my head?”

They prove it by lifting their foot, sticking it behind their head. Before you can say anything else, they do it again with the other foot, crossing them behind their mess of curly, black hair. Gamzee walks on their hands in a small circle around the rug. You get the message. Death is a sore topic.

Uncle Sumner knocks lightly on your door. “Tavros? You in there buddy?”

“Y-yeah, I'm home,” you call back, half wondering if your uncle knows about Gamzee haunting his house.

“Your dad'll be here soon. You packed?”

“Yeah. I-I am.”

“Alright.”

You hear your uncle walk away and feel a little bad. The two of you used to talk a lot and actually hold down a conversation, but recently you've been spending more and more time in your room.

You open your closet, reaching for your duffel bag, and catch your reflection in the mirror again. The same scrawny, broad-shouldered, big-eared teenager looks back at you. But there's something different. He looks...happier maybe? Or maybe it's just the presence of Gamzee floating behind you. Either way, you feel a little less heavy as you head down the stairs when the doorbell rings.


	2. Not In This Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros stays with his dad for the weekend and gets a visitor he hasn't talked to in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. I've been busy with school and also my computer has this issue where it cooperates for about an hour before everything goes downhill. Anyways, I finally got it done. This chapter owes its title to the song "A Way Into Your Heart" by Steam Powered Giraffe. Also, the style changed, but the picture is still done by me. I might go back and redo the one in the first one too.

The car rattles down the dirt road towards your father's farm. Gamzee catches you looking in the rear view mirror again and smiles from the back seat. You've been checking for the past hour to make sure he's still there. A voice in the back of your head keeps telling you he couldn't possibly follow you this far.

“So how has your week been?” your father asks, catching you off guard.

“S'been g-good,” you lie out of habit. It's obvious that he doesn't believe you, but his tactic seems to be to let you talk about it in your own time.

“That's good. Rufio missed you.”

“He a-always misses me,” you reply, smiling a little at the thought of the bull you've raised since he was a calf. You named him after your favorite character, though you tell your cousin you named it after him just to be nice. He wanders around the house like a large dog, and, as little as he was when he was born, he may as well be.

“Hey, Tavbro,” Gamzee whispers, leaning close even though your father can't hear them. “Who's this Rufio dude?”

You wait for a particularly loud part in the music playing through the radio before you respond, muttering quietly that Rufio is your pet. Gamzee nods as your father drives down the road and in front of the tall house.

The two story house where you spent most of your childhood stands tall in front of you, a couple of lights on in the first floor window. Rufio the dwarfish bull nearly tackles you as you walk in the door and you pet him behind the ears, easily avoiding his horns out of habit. Your father throws his keys on the kitchen counter, turning to smile at you.

“So what do you want for dinner? We can order a pizza,” he suggests. “I didn't have time to go to the store, so there won't be a ton of diversity in the fridge until tomorrow.”

“Pizza s-sounds good,” you say, starting for the stairs up to your room. Your dad nods and you leave the room, readjusting the bag on your shoulder. Gamzee floats idly up behind you and follows you into the dark, half-empty bedroom. The bed is on the floor, owing to the fact that Rufio likes to sleep with you and still thinks he's a lapdog. Well, lap-bull...

You turn on the light, the ceiling fan slowly spinning to life, and throw your bag down on the bed, sitting down next to it. Gamzee sits next to you, looking around the room with the large grin you've noticed never seems to leave their face.

“What's that medal for?” they ask pointing at the plastic gold medal hanging from the corner of your mirror. You scratch the back of your head, laughing a little.

“I-in, uh, sixth grade I w-won a P-Pokemon tournament. It's th-the only thing I e-ever really w-won. N-not very, uh, a-athletic o-or an-anything.” Especially not since the accident, you think. The wheelchair you were stuck in made that a little hard. Rufio noses the door open and wanders over next to you, laying his head in your lap. You scratch his ears absentmindedly, looking around for something else to talk about.

You're not sure how long you and Gamzee just sit, enjoying each other's company, but the silence is broken by your father calling up to you.

“Tav! Someone's here to see you!”

Your thick eyebrows furrow together. No one ever comes to visit while you're with your dad. Plus, it isn't like you have many friends...Who could be at the door? You stand up with only some difficulty (your leg doesn't trouble you near as much as it used to) and limp down the stairs, your crutches holding you steady. Aradia is waiting for you in the doorway and she waves, smiling as she catches your eye. She steps inside, pulling you into a slightly tentative hug.

“I went by your house, but your uncle said you already left for the weekend,” she says with a shrug. “I wanted to try and catch you before that, but I guess I was a little too late!”

“I haven't seen you here in a while,” your father says, patting Aradia on the shoulder and shaking her hand. “It's nice to see you again!”

“Same to you, Mr. Beldon!” Aradia says brightly. “I just noticed Tavros seemed a little nervous today, so I wanted to come say hi and check on how he's doing.”

She looks at you again and you suddenly notice the worry behind her smile. Of course she's worried about you. The two of you have been friends since the third grade. You can only imagine what she must have been thinking when you started skipping class.

“I-I'm doing f-fine, thanks!” you say, trying to match her smile. “S-sorry if I worried you!”

The strong feeling you get when you say that shocks you for a second, but you realize that you don't just mean for today. It's a miracle she hasn't knocked down your door and dragged you into some impromptu therapy session. You hope the look in your eyes is enough to express that and your father smiles down at the two of you.

“Why don't you two go look around town for a while. You have a few hours before it gets dark,” he suggests. The car keys in Aradia's pocket jingle as she grabs them.

“I think that sounds fun! We can take my car.”

You just sort of nod, vaguely aware of Gamzee hovering behind you, and follow Aradia back out the door. Your father calls something about being home before dark and the two of you wave in response. Tossing your crutches in the back seat, you crawl into the front of Aradia's old car, reminded again that you need to take your driving test. You must be the only one in your senior class that doesn't know how to drive...

Aradia starts the car and turns on the radio to a classic rock station—neither of your favorite, but the only thing the car's broken antennae will pick up. You glance in the rear-view mirror as she backs the car up and see Gamzee sitting contentedly in the back seat. You assumed they were coming, but it's still a bit of a shock to see the transparent person crouched on top of your crutches.

“So are you really doing okay?” Aradia asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. It takes you a couple of seconds to respond but you nod with some conviction.

“Yeah,” you say, repeating it as if you're trying to convince yourself as well. “Yeah I-I am.”

Her eyes linger on you like she's looking for any hint that you're lying, but just smiles and turns her attention back to the road.

“Good. Where do I turn?” she asks and you realize it's been at least nine or ten years since she's been here. And she's definitely never driven this way.

“Take a left up here,” you say, pointing at the upcoming intersection. She follows your directions, the ticking of the blinker the only sound for a few seconds. You glance back at Gamzee again, wondering why they're being so quiet, but they're just looking out the window, taking in the new environment. _There isn't really much to see_ , you think, looking around at the tall grass lining the road. Still. You figure they have been stuck in your house for who knows how long. Any change of scenery must look nice.

“Oh! I love this song!” Aradia suddenly cries, turning up the radio. She doesn't waste a breath before singing along. “Mamaaaaa oooooooo! Didn't mean to make you cry!”

You grin like an idiot as she starts singing in your direction. “If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters...” She smiles at you and shakes your shoulder until you eventually sing along. Two minutes later the two of you plus Gamzee are singing at the top of your lungs, incredibly off key.

“Thunderbolts of lightning, very very frightening me!”

“G-Galileo!”

“Galileo!”

“Galile—oh! T-turn here!” you laugh, pointing to the right. Still singing, the two of you pull into the small town, the car shaking on the brick road. Aradia parks outside a store near the edge of town and kills the engine.

“So do you want to just walk around?” she asks. Your smile fades a little and you slowly let your face fall back into its neutral expression as you nod.

“Y-yeah, that sounds f-fun,” you say, getting out of the car. The two of you walk down the street, Gamzee floating next to you. You're about to enter the local bookstore when you hear a voice behind you.

“Looky here! N-N-Nitram's back for the weekend!” You stop, feeling like you've just been dumped in cold water as Gamzee accidentally floats through you, and turn slowly to see Nash Walker and his gang. They're all a year older than you and used to bully you mercilessly for your stutter when you went to school here. Judging by the way Nash called your name, they still do.

“Who's this?” Nash asks as they get closer. He jabs a thick finger in Aradia's direction.

“Aradia Megido,” she says coolly, holding out a hand, clearly trying to be civil. “And you are?”

“'Megido',” Nash says, ignoring her question. “Where have I heard that name before...Oh! That's right! Don't you have a sister here?”

“Damara, yes,” Aradia answers in that same voice, letting her hand fall back to her side. You glance between the two nervously. Aradia has never really been one for conflict, but you've seen her angry. It wasn't a pretty sight. “She lives with my mom here.”

Just by Nash's grin you can tell he recognizes the name and what he's about to say, and apparently so can Aradia because before he can say anything she cuts him off.

“Can we help you?”

Nash shrugs, looking around to the other three boys. “We just wanted to come say hi to our favorite little buddy. Right Tavros?”

Your eyes shoot over to Nash, a little surprised at being addressed by your first name, but just try to square your shoulders and make yourself look bigger. Nash steps forward and you step back. Gamzee suddenly stands protectively in front of you, seeming to forget the fact that they're a ghost and completely intangible.

“P-please just l-leave us al-alone,” you say, hoping you sound more confident than you feel.

“Or what? You gonna hit me with your crutches?” Nash laughs.

Aradia steps forward. “No, but I might.”

A couple of the other boys laugh and Nash stands directly in front of her, at least a head taller. Aradia just glares back up at him, standing her ground.

“You wanna fight me?”

“Not if you leave us alone.”

“And if I don't?”

Instead of an answer Aradia's fist comes out of nowhere, nailing Nash in the nose and you swear you hear it break. Nash staggers back, clutching his bloody nose.

“Ah! You bitch, what the fuck?!” he shouts thickly, spitting blood out onto the sidewalk. Aradia just shrugs, flexing her fingers.

“Sh-she did w-warn you,” you say, unable to hide your smile. Behind you, Gamzee laughs, loud and raucous.

“She all up and knocked that motherfucker right on his ass!” they say. “I like her! You need to keep her around, Tavbro.”

You grin at Gamzee but quickly pretend you're looking at Aradia before someone notices. Nash scrambles back to his feet, straightening his shirt and squaring his shoulders with a sniff.

“I let her do that,” you hear him mutter to the other three as he walks away, leaving a small trail of bloody dots from his nose. Aradia smiles at you and you wonder why you ever stopped talking to her. In your defense, you kind of stopped talking to anyone for a while. But you're starting to realize that maybe opening up to at least one person wouldn't be too hard. _Okay, two_ , you think as Gamzee accidentally floats through you again. This turned out to be a good day.


	3. There's a Storm Coming Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros finds out something about Aradia as a storm hits the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No picture this time but I might go back and add one. I've just recently moved so I haven't had a chance to sit down and draw, but here's the new chapter. The title is from a song of the same name by Dodie Clark and it's just a really cute song.

It starts to get dark as storm clouds roll in. Aradia suggests that you head back to your house and you agree just a little too quickly. While it has been nice being outside with someone for once, you feel you've reached your limit. The sky grows darker and darker as you drive and by the time you're back at your house, you and Aradia are covering your heads, sprinting inside.

“Are you sure you want to drive home in this?” your father asks. Gamzee hovers in front of the window, watching the large drops of rain hit the glass. Thunder rumbles outside followed almost immediately by a bright flash of lightning. “You're welcome to stay the night,” your father continues, glancing out the window at the dark sky. “I'll call your dad—er, I suppose you're staying with your mom—and let her know where you are.”

Aradia pauses, her face turning a little red like you remember it doing whenever she was surprised about something. She hears the thunder again and flinches a little, trying to hide it, but you noticed how uncomfortable she looked at the thought of being in a storm.

“Well, if you're sure,” she starts, shooting furtive glances out the window. “I don't want to be any trouble...”

“I-it's no trouble at all!” you speak up. “We'll f-fold out th-the couch and you can s-sleep there!”

She looks between you and your father and relaxes a little. “I guess, at least until the storm passes.”

You feel Gamzee behind you now and you don't have to look to know they're grinning at the thought of a sleepover. And you can't help but smile too. How long has it been since you had a friend stay the night? Sure you're both seniors in high school, but that doesn't mean you can't have a sleepover. Your father pulls the fold-out bed out of the couch and Aradia helps, saying something about how she isn't going to be dead weight, even if it is just for one night.

It isn't long before you have a bed set up and your father is bidding you goodnight. The two of you are sitting cross-legged on the mattress (you've already removed your prosthetic) listening to the storm as Gamzee wanders aimlessly around. They linger slightly on a family photo of you (even tinier than you are now) and your fathers. Aradia takes another piece of pizza from the box between you and thunder rumbles quietly in the distance. It's kind of a nice sound.

“We c-can turn on the T-TV if you w-want,” you say, reaching for the remote. Aradia shrugs, shooting a glance out the window. The storm only seems to be getting worse. No sooner have you pressed the power button that a giant crack of thunder sounds around you, everything going dark as the power goes out, the sound mixing with your reflexive cry of, “I d-didn't do it!”

Something shuffled beside you, followed closely by a soft _fwump_.

“A-Aradia? You ok-kay?” It almost sounded like she fell of the bed. You can vaguely see Gamzee floating next to you and they duck down to look under the bed.

“She's down here, Tavbro,” they say. “Looks like she all up and hid from the thunder.”

You stick your head over the edge, straining your eyes to see the rounded lump on the floor that is your best friend.

“Aradia?” you ask again.

“M'fine!” came the muffled reply. Is she under a blanket? A memory flashes through your head of when the two of you were eight, a tent set up in Aradia's living room instead of the backyard like you had planned. A storm was rolling in too quickly for that. You remember Aradia, huddled under at least three blankets and a sleeping bag, barely visible except for her curly hair poking through the top.

“Y-you're scared of th-thunder,” you say to almost no one in particular.

“More so the lightning, actually,” she says, almost apologetically, rapidly swearing in Spanish as lightning flashes through the house again. In the brief light you can see her wrapped up, just as she was then, in a blanket, even curlier hair poking out from the top. There's a small pause before she says in a slightly more confident voice, “Did I knock over the pizza?”

You sit up again, feeling around and your hand hits the greasy cardboard. “N-no it's still here.”

“Can I have a slice?” Gamzee asks from somewhere to your left.

“C-can you eat? I th-thought it would just g-go through you,” you reply.

“What?” Aradia asks, peeking out from under the bed to give you a strange look.

“U-uh...nothing...” You didn't realize you said that out loud. “I was...uh...talking to myself?”

You are a horrible liar. But Aradia accepts the answer. Partly, you think, because the storm suddenly increases, rain pounding the window, and she ducks back underneath the bed. You swing your leg around off the bed, reaching for the crutches, and hobble off towards the kitchen. You have enough balance to keep yourself upright as you search through the drawer, finally finding a few candles and a lighter. You sit down next to where she's hidden and light the candles, giving the room a soft, orange glow. Once there's enough light, you start upstairs, returning with a small, portable DVD player and a few movies (National Treasure, the first three Indiana Jones movies, and Peter Pan). It's a bit tricky getting back down the stairs on one leg with your small haul but you eventually manage it and flop down next to Aradia again. By this time she's pulled the blanket from her face and is slowly emerging from under the bed.

“W-wanna watch a m-movie?” you ask. Aradia gives you a small, grateful smile that turns into a small, throaty laugh.

“You don't have to do this,” she says and you shrug, remembering her doing the same thing and more for you after your accident.

“I w-want to. Besides the p-power's out. What else're we gonna do?”

Aradia pulls herself out from under the bed, still wrapped in the thick blanket and sits next to you. “What do you have?”

“Some ad-adventure movies.” You show her and she immediately picks Raiders of the Lost Ark just as you thought she would.

“We'll watch Peter Pan next,” she says as she puts the DVD in and you let out a small laugh. You don't know why. It wasn't a particularly funny thing. Maybe it was just the thought that someone was offering to do something for you for a change. Like she always did... Gamzee settles behind you as the movie starts. Halfway through, you and Aradia end up wrapped in the same blanket, though, considering the two of you are practically walking space heaters, it doesn't last long. The two of you quote lines from the movie you'd both seen a hundred times over, your laughter at the delivery ranging from loud snorts to nearly silent squeaking. You haven't laughed that hard in a long time. You see Gamzee scratch absently at their chest, watching someone get slashed at during Temple of Doom and you can't help but wonder if that means something. But your thoughts wonder, not for the first time, why only you can see Gamzee. They seem to like Aradia and, at least in your opinion, Aradia might get along with them. Sooner or later you'll have to tell her you're being followed by a ghost. Aradia was always interested in that kind of thing. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, definitely tomorrow. As you slowly start to nod off in the middle of National Treasure, you make a mental note to yourself to start keeping in touch with Aradia. You hear her giving a tired, half-hearted Nicholas Cage impression before falling asleep, slouched against the arm of the couch.


End file.
